


Whumptober 2020 - Let's hurt the archer again

by asamandra



Series: Whumptober [3]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fast and the Furious Fusion, Assassins AU, Attempted Suicide, Blood Loss, Branding, Broken Bones, Carrying, Child Abuse, Chronic Pain, Don't copy to another site, Drug Use, Experiment, F/M, Gen, Hallucinations, Held at Gunpoint, Intubation, Kidnapping, Lost - Freeform, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, On the Run, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Ritual Sacrifice, Slavery, Sorcerers, Stabbing, Survivor Guilt, Underage - Freeform, Violence against Children, Waking up Restrained, Whump, Whumptober, Winged Clint Barton, Withdrawal, abandoned, animal cruelty, clint and tony are brothers, collapsed building, concussion, coulrophobia, earthquake, manhandled, minor char. death, mugged, shackled, tags will be updated with each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 18,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: Oh hey! It's october!! Why don't we hurt Clint a bit? I mean... he should be used to it by now :D
Relationships: Clint Barton & Barney Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Phil Coulson, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Nick Fury, Clint Barton/OMC, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Whumptober [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947616
Comments: 120
Kudos: 114





	1. Let's hang out sometime - Clint Barton & Nick Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME  
>  **Waking Up Restrained** | **Shackled** | Hanging

Something cold and wet hit him and Clint startled awake. He spluttered, shook his head and gasped for air. Then the pain was back. 

His shoulders hurt, his wrists hurt and Clint groaned. His captors - whoever they were - had shackled his hands and hoisted him up with a pulley so his feet dangled in the air. His whole weight pulled him down and it hurt. The perverts also had taken away his clothes. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. He looked around but he couldn’t see anyone. It seemed as if he was in an empty warehouse, only a garden hose lay on the floor and it still dripped a bit. He had no idea who _they_ were and why he was here.

“So, you’re awake,” a dark voice said behind him. Clint startled and tried to turn around. It was impossible. He wriggled a bit but then the man walked around him. He was tall, black, wore a leather coat and had an eyepatch over one of his eyes. 

“Who… who are you?” Clint rasped. His throat was sore and his shoulders hurt like hell. 

“My name is Nick Fury,” the man said and a predatory smile appeared on his lips. “I’m the director of SHIELD.” 

Clint’s mouth went dry. He knew SHIELD, they tried to capture him for years. 

“Wha… what do you want?” 

Fury grinned and Clint actually flinched. 

“What do you think?” he asked and folded his hands behind his back. 

“I won’t work for you!” Clint hissed. “I told that other guy!” 

Fury came closer and touched his naked stomach, caressed it slightly and Clint tried to get away but it was impossible. 

“Don’t,” he said and swallowed hard. 

Fury let his hand roam over his skin, up to his chest and then lower. 

“No,” Clint blurted and wriggled in his chains. “Don’t touch me!” 

Fury’s grin turned even more predatory. 

“Oh, but you have no say in that,” he said and cocked his head. 

“Wha…” Clint started but Fury reached up and put a finger over his mouth. 

“We offered you to work for us,” he said. “A few times, I may add. But you always refused. We know you’re too dangerous to walk around freely, _Hawkeye_ , and so…” he grinned again. “We just keep you… for our pleasure.” His hand touched Clint’s dick and he struggled again but to no avail. 

“No! No way! You can’t do that!”

“Welcome to SHIELD.”


	2. In the hands of the enemy - Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  
> “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | **Kidnapped**

“Seriously?” Clint asked incredulously. Three men stood in front of him, pointed their guns at him and he could sense quite a few behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw three more men in front of the bar. They, too, aimed guns at him. “You gotta be kidding, right?” 

“Don’t move,” one of them snapped with a thick Russian accent. “And shut the fuck up!” 

“Yeah? And what if I don’t?” he asked and cocked his head. He tried to hold all of the men in his sight but it was difficult. They were all around him and he wasn’t sober. 

“Then we…” one of them started and made a step in his direction. That was a mistake. Clint quickly grabbed him, wrangled the gun out of his hand and just wanted to shoot him when something hit his back. It hurt like a motherfucker and Clint squirmed on the ground. A damn taser gun. With a groan he fell… and lost consciousness.

When he woke he was in a room, tied to a chair with zipties and two of the men stood opposite of him. 

“You… uh… you know this is a bad idea, right?” 

“No, it’s not, Agent Barton,” one of them grinned. 

Clint cocked his head. It hurt, but he wouldn’t show it to them. 

“Okay, you know who I am,” he mused. “That means, you know who my friends are.” 

“We’re not afraid of the Avengers,” the other guy snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “We have…” 

A bullet through his throat stopped him. He gurgled and the other man jumped back but Clint moved his leg and the guy fell. Something dark dropped down from the ceiling and a smirk appeared on Clint’s face.

“Took you long enough,” he said and Natasha raised a brow. She went to the guy who lay beside the chair, felt his pulse and turned him around. She pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tied him up before she took a knife out of her boot and cut the zipties around Clint’s wrists. 

“I was busy finding out who wanted to kidnap you,” she grouched. 

“The Russian mob,” Clint said and rose. He searched for a weapon and found a gun lying on the floor. He took it, checked it and put it in his waistband. 

“No,” Nat said. “It was supposed to give the impression but they weren’t Russians.” 

“How do you…” Clint started, stopped, tilted his head and sighed. “Never mind.” 

“I’m pretty sure that they’re from AIM,” Natasha said and frisked the other guy on the floor. 

“AIM?” Clint frowned. “Why would AIM _kidnap_ me? Why would AIM kidnap _me_?”

“That’s what we have to find out,” she said. Together they grabbed the guy and dragged him to the door. “And he’s gonna help us!”


	3. My way or the highway - Clint Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY  
>  **Manhandled** | Forced to their Knees | **Held at Gunpoint**

“See you tomorrow,” Clint said, smiled and waved at his friends. He put his rucksack over his shoulder and went to the door of the coffee shop. 

Steve, Sam, Nat and Maria waved, too, and Clint left the coffee shop. His car was parked a block away and he grumbled under his breath. It was cold outside and he just fumbled with the zipper of his jacket when he heard screeching tires. His head snapped up and he saw a black van coming up to him. 

Before he could react the door on the side went open and four men came out, grabbed his arms and dragged him to the vehicle. His rucksack fell to the ground and Clint started to scream and to struggle. It took only thirty seconds and the men had dragged him inside, had closed the door and the driver sped away. 

“What…” Clint started but stopped the moment a gun was pointed at his forehead. 

“No speaking,” one of the men snarled.

Two of the men still held his arms while the last one opened a switchblade and started to cut off Clint’s clothes. He had no idea who they were and what happened right now.

“Please, don’t…” he said but the man in front of him pressed the gun at his skin now. 

“I said, no speaking,” he hissed. 

When he was naked they turned him around, pressed him to the floor and pulled his hands back. They tied them together with zipties and then they turned him back. 

“Who are you? Why did you…” Clint asked but one man pressed his hand over Clint’s mouth while another one took a red ball with straps. He tried to shake his head but the man who had tied his hands forced him to open his mouth while the other one shoved the ball inside. They fastened the strips behind his head. 

“All right,” the man who drove the car said over his shoulder. “Chip him!” 

And now Clint understood. Slave hunters! They were slave hunters and he…he was their prey. But slavery was illegal in this part of the country! He screamed into his gag and started to struggle even more. 

“Come on, hold him,” the driver hissed and two of the men pressed him down. The third man in the back reached for something Clint couldn’t see properly but then he held it against Clint’s shoulder blade and a moment later it hurt. Clint screamed. 

The man put the device away, took another device and moved it over his shoulder. The thing beeped and the man nodded.

“It works,” he said. The man grabbed a laptop and started to type and around five minutes later he nodded again.

“Done, boss,” he said. 

“Good,” the driver said and turned left. They drove for another few minutes before the van stopped. One of the guys in the back opened the door and Clint struggled again. He didn’t want to get out there naked as he was. 

More men were outside, a few of them naked and tied, too. His captors talked to other men in a language he didn’t understand and they dragged him along a corridor. 

He tried to get away but the men were strong, too strong. They led him into a huge room where they waited. Other men were there, too. They held prisoners like him between them. Dread settled in his stomach and he started to tremble. 

And then it was his time. The men who still held him led him to a door, through a small corridor and through a curtain. He was on a stage where spotlights shone at him. He tried to fight when they dragged him to the middle of the stage and one of them kicked him in his legs. Clint stumbled and fell down on his knees. They moved him around a bit till the persons in the audience could see everything and then they held him in position. He could barely move. 

“The next item is a nineteen years old orphan,” a voice from the side of the stage said. “We observed him for four months now and we just managed to obtain him. He’s completely untrained and an experienced Master will take great pleasure in breaking him. Opening bid, twenty-thousand dollars.”


	4. Running out of time - Clint Barton & Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME  
> Caged | Buried Alive | **Collapsed Building**

Clint was human. He was no super soldier, he was no god, he was no mutant or something, he was human. Yet, he was part of the Avengers and that meant it was a dangerous life sometimes. Well, most of the time to be honest. 

This morning he was rudely awakened by an alarm going off. It took him like 27 seconds to get out of bed and into his gear. And now he sat in a quinjet between Natasha and Thor while Tony flew them to Boston.

“What do we have?” Bruce asked. He’s been the last who entered the jet and he still yawned every few seconds. 

“Robots,” Tony said from the pilot’s seat. “Many, many robots.” 

“Robots?” Bruce asked and frowned. 

“Boston Dynamics works on some sort of household robot but this morning their products started to… how shall I put it?... they started to go all Ultron. They destroyed the lab and now they’re in the city and kill people.” 

“What the fuck,” Natasha blurted and glared at Tony. 

“What?” he said as if he could feel her gaze. “It wasn’t me!” 

“What are we doing?” Clint asked and turned to Steve now. 

“Well,” he said. “We fight. And we destroy them.” 

Three hours later Clint was located up high, he held a rifle in his hand and shot at rampaging robots. He would’ve preferred his bow, but the arrows didn’t do enough damage and so he switched it for a rifle. 

He just shot at a bunch of robots chasing Steve when Tony yelled at Hulk. 

“Stop, Hulk!” 

“Fuck,” Natasha cursed the same moment. “Clint! Get away!” 

“What the…” he started but then he realized that Hulk just tore down one wall of the building he perched on. He could feel the impact and then…

“Uh oh,” he said and rose. He ran to the door that led into the building when he felt the floor moving. “Fuck!” 

“Barton!” Tony screamed in his comms and Clint could already hear his repulsors… when the ground vanished beneath him. The roof crumbled and Clint fell, got hit by debris and fell… He hit walls and stairs and furniture and more debris on his way down, he could feel his leg break, his ribs and his wrists, too. His head got hit by a big chunk of the staircase and he lost consciousness. 

When he came around again it was dark. He could barely breathe and he was in pain. He couldn’t feel his legs. 

“Hello?” he rasped, coughed and groaned because it hurt like hell. He tried to move his arm but his elbow was broken. “Hello?” He tried again and had to cough again. 

Static noise came out of his comm and he winced. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. Something in his back hurt and he tried to shift away but he couldn’t because his legs were trapped under something he couldn’t see. It was pitch black around him. 

There was the static noise again and Clint tried to get the comm out of his ear. His head hurt and he could barely move his arm. 

“Hello?” he tried again but once more there was only static noise. “Damn!” 

His legs had stopped hurting and this… this was bad, right? It was bad. He was cold. Why was it so fucking cold? And why couldn’t he see? Why was it so dark? His arm hurt when he tried to move it.

“Hello?” he whispered weakly. “Help… please… someone… help… me…” 

Static noise was in his comm again and Cint winced. It hurt. His head hurt so much. 

“Please…” 

“Hold on, Clint!” he suddenly heard Steve’s voice. “We’re here! We have you!” 

“Steve?” Clint breathed barely audible. 

“Yeah, Clint, it’s me. We have you, you’re safe now.” 

“Steve…” he whispered and then he lost consciousness.


	5. Where do you think you're going - Clint Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?  
>  **On the Run** | Failed Escape | Rescue

Clint knew that something was wrong, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Something within SHIELD was really, really wrong. He had tried to keep an eye on it but since he was assigned to the Avengers it wasn’t easy. Most of his time he was in Stark… no… Avengers Tower, then in the newly built HQ. 

But then Steve literally destroyed SHIELD because it was HYDRA infested and Nat threw all the secret SHIELD files into the internet. 

He had to get away as fast as possible. If the world found out about his past… they would throw him into jail before he could say ‘hi’. 

Fortunately he still had a few safehouses no one knew about, not even Natasha. He vanished when Nat had to appear in front of the senate. 

In Massachusetts he ran into a group of former SHIELD agents, one of the STRIKE teams. He knew them. Rumlow, Rollins, Keller, Davis. He had just tried to sell his bike to a used car dealer when they appeared. Rollins saw him first and talked into his comm.

“Fuck!” Clint cursed and looked around. The others tried to surround him but Clint had trained with them often enough, he knew how they worked. They had their hands on their guns but they haven’t drawn them yet. After all, there were still other people around them. 

Clint still had his helmet and when Keller was close he threw it. Of course they expected something like this but the tiny moment of surprise was enough for Clint to break through and jump behind one of the cars on the yard. 

“Barton!” Rumlow bellowed. “Give up! You can’t escape!” 

“Wanna bet?” Clint called back and lay down on the ground to crawl under one of the cars. He moved fast, crawled out into the open a few seconds later and sneaked behind a pick-up truck. Davis was close, he could see him looking under the cars and Clint used his chance. He moved, grabbed the man from behind and before he could call for help Clint had snapped his neck. 

He peered around the corner before he grabbed the body and threw it onto the truck bed. His gun - he had drawn it in the meantime - lay on the ground and Clint took it. 

As quiet as possible he sneaked through the rows of cars. 

“Fuck,” he cursed quietly when he saw Keller coming in his direction. Silently he took out the magazine of the gun, took out a bullet, placed it on the ground and flicked it under the cars. It made a faint sound on the ground. 

He peered again and saw Keller searching for the sound and that was distraction enough for Clint to reach the fence. He climbed and jumped over it and managed to duck behind a dumpster only a moment before a few bullets flew in his direction. 

“Barton!” Rumlow yelled but Clint ignored him. 

He was in a backstreet and he could see the street from his position. Unfortunately, _they_ would see him, too. He peeked over the rim of the dumpster, took the gun and shot Keller. The guy dropped down and both, Rollins and Rumlow, looked in his direction… and Clint ran. 

He stopped as soon as he arrived on the street, walked at a normal pace and went into the next store. He could see Rumlow and Rollins outside, searching for him and Clint grabbed a few pants and went to the changing booth. He stayed there for a few moments longer but when the shop assistant looked at him suspiciously he shrugged and nodded at the entrance door.

“I just saw my ex outside,” he said and she nodded understandingly and let him stay for a while. 

He bought the pants when he left, he stole a car and left the city, he abandoned the car after Rumlow and Rollins found him somewhere in a godforsaken small town. He ran into them a few more times till he found out that they had bugged him. 

Clint left back everything. He bought new clothes, new shoes, a new phone… and left everything else, even his bow. He traveled by bus, he hitched a ride every now and then or he simply walked. 

And then he could finally see it. In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and fields… and nothing else. The farm. His family’s farm. He was back where everything started. He was home.


	6. Please... - Clint Barton/OMC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 6. PLEASE….  
> “Get it Out” | No More | **“Stop, please”**
> 
> TW: non-con, underage

Clint was sixteen when it happened the first time. He was a scrawny kid, living in a foster family since his brother ran away and joined the army. But he’s been too young to come with him and so he had to stay where he was. 

Jenny, his foster mom, was okay but her husband was an asshole. As long as Barney was here Mike didn’t dare to lay hand on Clint but the moment he moved out he started to harass him. At first only with words, then he touched him _accidentally_ sometimes. When his wife wasn’t at home he ordered Clint to bring him his beer and when he walked away he patted his ass. 

Clint was shocked at first but the guy told him he would send him back to the orphanage and that… that was even worse. One day he let his hand run along the inside of Clint’s leg up to his crotch and only the ringing phone had stopped him. 

But then Jenny had had an accident at work and had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Mike had ordered Clint to cook something to eat while he ogled him from his armchair in the living room. They ate in silence that evening but Clint could literally feel his eyes on him the whole time. 

When he went to bed he wished he could lock his room but there was no key. But somehow he managed to fall asleep. 

He startled awake when his blanket was pulled away. Mike stood in his room and Clint could smell the alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Before Clint could react Mike had grabbed his arm and pulled him up. 

“Mike,” he said and tried to struggle, but the bigger man just rammed his fist in Clint’s stomach. “Shut up,” he growled when Clint doubled over. He shoved him and threw him back onto his bed, but this time with his face forward. 

“No!” Clint breathed and tried to get up but Mike pressed his hand in his neck and held him down. “No, please!” 

Mike reached down and grabbed the waistband of his pants and jerked it down. 

“Stop! Please!” 

“Shut up!” Mike hissed and slapped Clint’s naked ass. When Clint started to struggle again he grabbed his hands, and forced them on his back, held them 

“No, Mike, please! Don’t!” Clint pleaded when the older man stepped between his legs, kicked them open and spread his cheeks with his free hand. 

“I said, shut up, dammit,” Mike hissed and let go of his hands. He pressed his face into the mattress beneath him. Clint could barely breathe but when he felt something hard at his entrance he screamed. With a forceful thrust Mike shoved his cock in Clint’s body. He didn’t come up with the idea to use lube and so it hurt like hell. Mike moved a bit, pressed both his hands on Clint’s shoulders so he couldn’t move, couldn’t struggle. He pulled out and shoved in again and then he started to fuck him in earnest. Hard, relentless… painful. Clint screamed, pleaded, tried to struggle but Mike didn’t stop. 

“Oh god, you feel so good,” he murmured. “So tight!” He groaned and went stiff. He moaned in Clint’s ear when he pulled out. Something wet dribbled out of his ass, along his leg onto the mattress. 

Mike rose, pulled his pants up and patted Clint’s ass again. 

“Clean up that mess, boy,” he slurred. “We don’t want Jenny to see this, right?” 

Clint lay on the bed unmoving, tears running over his face. 

“I said, get up and clean the mess or…” Mike hissed. He didn’t finish his sentence, he just slapped Clint’s ass again.

“Yes, sir,” Clint murmured and rose. Mike chuckled on his way out of his room.

“We will have lots of fun when Jenny is at work.” 

He was sixteen… and he had to stay here two more years. Two long, long years.


	7. I've got you - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 7. I’VE GOT YOU  
> Support | **Carrying** | Enemy to Caretaker

“No!” Clint said and folded his arms over his chest. 

Bucky stood over him, his best ‘Captain America disapproves’ imitation on his face. 

“How do you think you’re…” he started but Clint interrupted him. 

“You will not carry me!” he stated and glared back. 

“Clint,” Bucky huffed frustrated. “You just fell down from that damn mountain and your leg is broken,” he said. “And your damn phone is down there in pieces,” he added and pointed into the ravine behind them. 

“I can walk,” Clint claimed and Bucky couldn’t hold back a snort. 

“No, you cannot! Your ankle is broken!” he exclaimed when Clint tried to stand up. 

“Yeah?” Clint snapped. “And you know that because you’re a doctor?” 

“No, I know this because it sticks out at a square angle! And ankles usually don’t do that!” 

Clint gritted his teeth and glared some more. 

“You can’t get down if you carry me,” he said then when he saw that Bucky didn’t give in. 

“I’m the Winter Soldier,” Bucky stated. “I can carry you _and_ climb down the damn mountain!” 

“You say that a lot,” Clint suddenly said and cocked his head. Bucky frowned. 

“What?” 

“Damn,” Clint said. “You say that a lot.” 

“Damn right, damn idiot!” Bucky snapped. “And now let me carry you down that damn mountain. I don’t want to spend the damn night here!” 

“But…” Clint started but Bucky interrupted him.

“No one will see you! And I promise I will not tell anyone.” 

“That’s not it,” Clint said and scratched the back of his neck. “What if you fall down, too? What if we both die here?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t want you to die because I’m too dumb to climb,” Clint said. 

Bucky scrutinized him for a very long moment, then started to mutter something under his breath - probably in Russian, Clint wasn’t sure - and grabbed Clint’s arm. Without listening to his protests he hoisted him up into a fireman’s carry, and went to the wall to climb down. But before he started to climb, he grabbed Clint’s hand, led it down to his own belt and looked at him over his shoulder. 

“Do not let go, understand?” he said. Clint nodded and grabbed the belt when Bucky went to the wall and started to climb down into the ravine. 

“So,” Clint said and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “There’s something I wanted to ask you for a long time.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky breathed, “What?” 

“Okay, uhm…” Clint started and winced when he hit his broken ankle against the wall. Bucky stopped and moved a bit to get it away. 

“Come out with it,” he said then and moved down again. 

“Okay,” Clint said again. “So, it’s not sure we’re going to survive this and that’s…” he stopped for a moment, “Would you maybe go out with me?” 

Bucky was quiet for a long moment, Clint only heard him breath hard while moving down along the wall. 

“You mean,” he said after a while, “you mean as a date?” 

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Maybe I read the signs wrong, but… but I had the impression that…” 

“Okay,” Bucky interrupted him. “If we survive this, we’ll have a date.” 

“Awesome!” Clint said and smiled. 

“Until then,” Bucky breathed hard, “try not to move that much or we’re going to miss our date.” A few moments later he added, “And that’d be a shame.”


	8. Where did everybody go? - Clint Barton & Barney Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?  
> “Don’t Say Goodbye” | **Abandoned** | Isolation

Clint was an orphan since he was four years old. He didn’t remember much about their parents and - according to Barney - it was better that way. Their father was a drunkard and beat their mom, Barney… and sometimes Clint. 

When Clint was ten, he and his brother ran away from the orphanage and found a circus, who took them in. And for the first time in his life he had a home. He loved the people, the people loved him and he learned to shoot with a bow. 

With fifteen Carson took him into the show and half a year later he was one of the main acts. And Barney was jealous. But Clint didn’t notice. 

Right now he lay in a hospital bed, attached to lots of wires and tubes. He was seventeen and his brother had tried to kill him. Everything hurt. 

“Mr. Barton,” a voice said from the door and Clint turned his head. Two cops were there, together with a nurse and they looked at him questioningly. 

“We need to ask a few questions,” one of them said when the nurse had checked that he was okay and had left the room. Clint nodded. 

“Do you remember what happened to you?” 

Of course he remembered. 

_A few weeks ago he found out that his brother was a burglar and that he broke into jeweler’s stores at night together with his mentors. He tried to talk to him but Barney just told him to shut his mouth. Clint - idiot that he was - went to Carson and talked to him and Carson had said he would take care of it._

_As it turned out, Carson was in on it, too, and he had told Jacqes and Buck and they…_

He closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Everything was so… fast…” he rasped. “They… they stabbed me…” 

“Can you describe your attackers?” the other cop asked and Clint shook his head again. 

_A few days ago he had noticed that Barney and Jacques went to town a lot and he knew what it meant. He waited for them to make a move and followed them. He saw them drive to a small jeweler’s store. They parked their car in a side alley and did something in the dark Clint couldn’t see. He moved closer and saw they had used a fire ladder to get onto the roof. He followed them, climbed up and saw Barney waiting beside the RTU._

_“What are you doing here?” he hissed the moment he noticed Clint._

_“I could ask you the same,” Clint answered._

_“Piss off!” Barney hissed and Clint shook his head._

_“No, Barn, you can’t do that, that’s not you!” He said. “Come on, we…”_

_“I said, piss off,” he interrupted him._

_“Barney, please,” Clint had said and then his brother was close._

_“You’re really a pain in the ass,” he hissed. “Time to say goodbye.” And then Clint felt the pain in his stomach._

“Mr. Barton?” the cop said again and Clint snapped back. 

“Sorry,” he whispered and gestured vaguely at the I.V. pole. “They… uh… they wore masks.” 

“You told the EMT you tried to stop the burglars,” the cop said and Clint nodded. “Why?” 

“I… don’t know…” Clint rasped. “I thought it’s the right thing to do.” 

“All right,” the other cop said. “Since you’re still minor, does your family know where you are?” 

Clint shook his head again. 

“I don’t have a family,” he said quietly and closed his eyes. “I’m alone.”


	9. For the greater good - Clint Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD  
> “Take Me Instead” | **“Run!”** | **Ritual Sacrifice**

Clint paled, when he saw the black horses and the riders coming down the narrow road to the farm of his parents. Huge men in black armor with black wings on their backs. The Angels of Uyahki!  
_Please, gods, no!_ He thought. 

“Clint,” Barney said when he came out of the pigpen. “Run!” 

“What?” 

The riders just came to the decrepit gate and one of them let his horse rear up and tear it down. “Run, Clint!” Barney said again and shooed him away. “They’re coming for you!” 

Clint was sixteen, the age of selection. Of course it was an honor for the family to be selected but for the one they chose it meant becoming one of _them_. 

Without thinking twice he turned on his heel and ran to the fields behind the house and hoped he would make it into the wood. 

He heard someone yelling behind him and looked over his shoulder. One of the riders was close, too close and he kicked Clint with his boot and the lights went out. 

When he woke up again he sat in a cross-barred carriage together with four other boys his age. Their hands were tied and they were gagged, just like Clint. 

It took them three days to arrive in the capital and no one allowed them to talk. Once a day they got food and then they were gagged again. 

People stood in the streets and watched the carriage passing by and every single one of them made the sign to ward off evil. The Angels let them, they just rode in front and behind of the carriage and ignored the people. 

They arrived at the huge fortress in the middle of the capital only moments later and the huge black doors swung open. A tear ran along Clint’s face when they were brought inside. He knew what they would do to them and there was no way to stop them. If the Angels wanted you, they got you and you would become one of them.

***

Clint started to tremble, when they came to fetch him. One of the Angels opened the cell, two more men came in and grabbed his arms.

“No, please!” he pleaded but they didn’t listen to him. They just dragged him to the door and then to some stairs farther down. Orange light shone up from down there and Clint’s mouth was painfully dry. 

“No,” he tried again. “No, I don’t want this.” They still ignored him. When they arrived at the foot of the stairs Clint saw a huge cavern and fire licking along the walls. Lots and lots of Angels in their full armor were here and in the middle of the room was a black block of stone with shackles at the corners. The men who held him started to cut off his clothes and forced him onto the stone while others tied his hands. He lay there, spread-eagle and shivering in fear. 

One of the Angels - a black man with an eyepatch - went to him. He was the only one without his helmet. He took a dagger and showed it to Clint. 

“Witch!” he commanded and a smaller woman with red hair and in a red robe appeared beside Clint. She moved her hands over his head, placed both of them beside his ears and red mist enfolded over him. 

“His eyes are remarkable, Fury,” she said then. “Let us call him Hawkeye.” 

“Agreed,” the man with the eyepatch said. He nodded at the witch and the mist changed, lulled Clint’s senses but he could still see the dagger, could see the man moving it over his body and he could still feel it piercing his heart. 

He screamed... or at least he thought he would but no sound came over his lips. The man cut him open and Clint could see it, could see the blood, could see the man’s hands open his chest and it hurt, it hurt, it hurt! The man literally reached into his body and he closed his hands around Clint’s heart and tore! He held Clint’s heart in his hand and Clint knew he should be dead but he wasn’t and he had no idea why he was alive and it was so painful, so damn painful! The man turned to another man, holding a canopy and he put Clint’s heart in it. He turned around and held a device in his hand, a thing, made of metal and it shone blue and he moved it to Clint’s chest and Clint wanted to scream but he couldn’t and it hurt when he put it in and the mist changed again… 

He opened his eyes and looked around. 

“Sire,” he said when the Fury smiled at him. 

“Stand up,” the Fury said and he obeyed. He looked down at himself, saw the scar on his chest and looked at the Fury. “Hawkeye!” 

Hawkeye nodded and spread his arms. Two of his brothers came and brought his armor, they helped him put it on and they gave him his wings. He could feel them and sighed relieved when he got his helmet. 

“I am ready,” he said and the Fury nodded. 

Hawkeye stepped aside, joined his brothers in the sacred circle. The Fury turned around and a young boy was dragged in. They brought him to the altar and soon he would be his brother, too. 

Hawkeye smiled.


	10. They look so pretty when they bleed - Clint Barton & Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED  
>  **Blood loss** | Internal Bleeding | **Trail of Blood**

“Clint?” Steve asked over the comms. 

“In position,” he said and winced. His side hurt like hell but he had a job to do. 

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked. She had seen him getting hit. 

“I’m okay,” he said and looked through the scope of his rifle. He would’ve preferred his bow but the rifle had a longer range. 

“Can you take him out?” Steve asked again and Clint winced once more. On his way to the building one of their enemies had shot at him and had managed to hit him. 

“Of course I can,” he said. 

The man they were talking about was the leader of an army. An army that currently had taken over Washington DC. An army of heavily upgraded North Korean clones. 

“Then do it,” Steve said and Clint moved a bit, winced when his side hurt again. For a moment he lost focus but then he forced himself to concentrate. He looked through the scope, saw the man… and shot. 

“You have him,” Nat said. “Now we can take out the rest. 

Clint sat back. He had to lean against the wall. His side hurt and he let go of the weapon. It clattered down onto the roof and he winced again. His hand shook and he reached down. When he looked he saw blood.

“Good,” he whispered. “Good.” 

“Clint?” Tony asked now. He flew through the streets of Washington and took out the clones together with the rest of the team. 

“I… I’m okay,” he lied. “I’m okay.” 

He pressed his hands on the wound in his side and tried to stop the bleeding but the blood ran through his fingers. The door. He had to get to the door, then he could go to the quinjet. He could make it, he could…

With a painful groan he went down to his knees. 

“Fuck,” he cursed silently when his head spun. He tried to get up but his knees refused. 

“Clint!” Tony said again. Clint could hear him.

“‘M fine…” he whispered. “Fight… don’t… me…” 

He looked at his hand and it was red everywhere. He literally sat in a puddle of his own blood. 

“Clint! Status!” Steve demanded and Clint blinked.

“‘M okay…” he slurred. 

“Iron man!” he heard Steve’s voice again. 

“No…” Clint whispered and the last thing he saw before he finally lost consciousness was red and gold coming up to him.


	11. Psych 101 - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 11. PSYCH 101  
>  **Defiance** | Struggling | Crying

Clint straightened his back and looked straight ahead. He gritted his teeth.

“No,” he said then. 

“Are you sure?” the cop beside him whispered in his ear. He was way too close for Clint’s peace of mind but he couldn’t do anything about it right now. He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times to keep the blood flow going. They had closed the cuffs very tight when they had arrested them. 

“Absolutely,” Clint said. 

“So, boy,” the man whispered in his ear again. “You want to go to jail alone?” 

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Clint admitted. 

“Then tell us who accompanied you,” the man said and walked around him, sitting down opposite of him. 

“No,” Clint said again. He would not rat out his friends, the only true family he ever had. Steve, Tony, Bruce, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Carol, Jessica and Nat. _They_ were his family. 

“Why assume such a defiant attitude, Mr. Barton?” the man asked. “If you would cooperate you’d go to jail for only five years, minimum security.” 

Clint took a deep breath and turned to look at the wall again. 

“The Alternative is twenty-five years in maximum security,” the man told him. “You’re nineteen, Mr. Barton.” 

“There’s nothing I have to tell you,” Clint said defiantly and gritted his teeth. 

“Your so called friends are thieves and murderers. Where are they now? No one is here to help you,” the cop said and Clint snorted. 

“No one ever murdered anyone,” he said then and now the cop laughed. 

“Really? What about the guys who died in the illegal street races? What about the guys who died last month?”

“They died because they were chased by cops,” Clint said and remembered the three men. He knew them, had known them for a long while. Brock, Jack, John, Daniel. 

“We chased them because they robbed a driving security van,” the cop hissed. 

“We’re not like them,” Clint looked up at him. “We’re nothing like them!” 

“Tell us!” the man demanded and Clint shook his head again. 

“No!” he said again. 

“Well, if you want to go to jail, that’s up to you. But believe me, the guys there, they will love a pretty boy like you,” he said with a nasty grin. Clint swallowed hard but he wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t betray his family. He wouldn’t. 

“Bring him to the state penitentiary,” the cop commanded and the door went open and they led Clint out of the room. 

A few hours later he wore an orange jumpsuit and sat in a bus, his feet chained to the floor, his hands tied to the seat in front of him. Guards were with them when he heard cars beside the bus. He saw six black pimped up cars surround them and they all revved up the engines. 

Clint saw Natasha driving the car beside the bus and Bucky sat in the passenger’s seat, grinned and signed ‘Missed me, babe?’. 

Clint couldn’t hold back the grin. His family had come.


	12. I think I've broken something - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING  
> Broken Down | **Broken Bones** | Broken Trust

“You got to fucking be kidding me,” Bucky blurted as soon as he saw Clint coming into the apartment. He was in the kitchen to make dinner when Clint would come home. An hour earlier Clint had texted him that he would be late and Bucky had tried to call him. 

“I’ll explain later,” Clint had said and quit the call. 

Bucky had taken Lucky and went around the block with him to damp down his anxiety. Clint had sounded so cryptically. 

But then, half an hour ago, Clint had called again and told him that he was on his way back home and Bucky went to the kitchen to cook dinner. He had just drained the pasta when the door went open.

Bucky looked up… and paled.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked and Clint sighed and hobbled to the couch. He could barely walk, Bucky noticed. 

“Uh… I saved a dog,” Clint said. “And maybe beat up the guys a bit who hurt her.” 

“You _maybe_ beat them up?” Bucky asked incredulously and hurried to the kitchen when something started to smell weirdly. He threw the smoldering pot with the ex-sauce into the sink and let water run into it. 

“These asshats threw a puppy out of the window of their car, onto the street, into the traffic, Buck!” Clint said. “I had to rescue it.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said and went back to the living room, where Clint half sat, half lay on the couch. “You rescued the dog?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded and a tiny smile appeared on his face. “I brought her to Lucky’s vet and he said she will survive.” 

And we’ll get another dog, Bucky thought. 

“But what’s with that?” he pointed at the bruises, the gashes and swollen knee. 

“I… uh…” Clint said and scratched the back of his neck with a tiny blush. “I remembered their license plate and Tony found out their name and address and all that… and… maybe… I beat them up a bit.” 

“What the everloving fuck is that supposed to mean, Clint!” Bucky threw his hands in the air in desperation. 

“Well, uh…” Clint said and scratched the back of his neck again. “I… visited them and told them that it was bad to throw the poor puppy out of the window and then… things escalated quickly. I called the ambulance and went home.” 

“You…” Bucky started, stared, stopped, wiped his face with one hand and closed his eyes for a second. “You beat those guys up that they needed an ambulance and then _you just drove home_?” 

“Uh… yeah?” Clint said but it sounded more like a question. 

“And your knee? I’m pretty sure it’s broken, too!” Bucky exclaimed. “Why didn’t you wait for the ambulance so they could take a look?” 

“Sure, I could’ve done that,” Clint admitted, “But then we would read in the newspapers tomorrow ‘Raging Avenger beats civilians to bloody pulps’. And I thought Pepper would be angry and so…” 

“Pepper… would be… angry…” Bucky pressed through his teeth. No, _Bucky_ would be angry! 

“Come on,” he said then, reached down, grabbed Clint’s arm and started to pull. He ignored his whining. 

“Where are we going? I’m hungry and you made dinner,” Clint said and pointed to the smoking pot in the sink. 

“It’s burnt and you’re injured,” Bucky growls. “We’re going to visit Bruce.” 

“Aww, pasta, no,” Clint whined and Bucky glared at him. But when he heard his stomach rumble he sighed. “And if you’re a good boy we’ll order pizza when we’re back.”


	13. Breathe in, breathe out - Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT  
> Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | **Oxygen Mask**
> 
> TW: attempted suicide

Clint wiped his face and leaned his head back against the headrest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

He hurt. Everything hurt. His head hurt, his shoulder hurt, his wrist hurt, his chest hurt, his knee hurt. He felt old right now. _’No,’_ he told himself, _’you are old, Clint.’_

He was clearly on the wrong side of forty now and he could see the 5 coming up already. 

_’Soon,_ he thought, _’soon they’ll ask you to leave the active duty, to help train the new agents and stay behind a desk._

He hated desk duty. The only time he felt alive was when he was on a mission. But now he was injured and the docs had condemned him to stay put while the Avengers were on a mission right now. 

He wiped his face again and stared out the window of his car. He stood in his garage, saw the empty wall opposite of him and pressed a button on the remote lying in the center console. The garage door rolled down and it went dark. Clint just sat there. He didn’t even bother with shutting off the engine.

He leaned forward, leaned his head against the wheel and took a deep breath. Tomorrow… tomorrow he would talk to Cap and would hand in his resignation. He closed his eyes and listened to the engine.

***

“Clint?” Phil called through the house. “Clint? Where are you?”

He came home to check on Clint. He was supposed to be here. At least he had said he would go home after Fury had grounded him. 

“Clint?” Phil had parked in the driveway but Clint’s car wasn’t here. Maybe he had parked it in the garage. “Clint?” 

With a sigh he went to the garage to see if his car was there. He opened the door and then he could hear it, could smell it… and his mouth went dry. 

“Clint!” He screamed. He ran in, ran through the clouds of smoke to the still running car. He coughed, reached in his pocket and pressed the handkerchief over his mouth. 

He almost fell down the stairs but then he arrived at the driver’s door. Clint still sat on the seat and… _’Oh god, please, don’t be dead’_

Phil reached in, shut off the engine and pressed the button that opened the garage door. With his other hand he felt for Clint’s pulse. It was weak, very weak, but it was still there. 

“Damn, Clint,” he muttered when he undid the seatbelt, reached under his arms and pulled him out of the car. He was completely unresponsive and Phil knew he had to get him out of here. 

He dragged him to the driveway and gently lay him down. 

With trembling hands he pulled out his phone and dialed. 

“Agent Coulson here,” he snapped as soon as the agent on duty picked up. “I need medevac. Send a quinjet to my house! Pronto!” 

He quit the call and turned back to Clint. “Hold on, babe! Please, hold on! Help’s on the way!”

***

Clint woke to a beeping sound. He opened his eyes carefully and saw that he was in medical. Something was in his face and he tried to lift his hands but then another hand appeared and stopped him.

“Don’t,” a voice said and he saw the worried face of Phil. “You have carbon monoxide poisoning.” 

Clint blinked slowly. He had what? He wanted to reach up again but Phil stopped him once more. 

“The oxygen mask has to stay on, babe,” he said quietly. “You… you almost died.” 

Clint closed his eyes. He remembered sitting in the car and…

_I’m sorry_ he signed slowly. 

“Why, Clint,” Phil asked and reached out to shove a few hair out of Clint’s face. “Why did you…” 

_I was so tired_ he signed. _Tired and useless._

“Clint, you’re not useless,” Phil said. “You’re far from useless! You’re grounded because you’re injured and you need to heal. The Avengers still need you, the world still needs you.” He cast his eyes down for a second before he looked back at Clint. “I need you.” 

_I’m sorry_ Clint signed again. _I love you_

Phil smiled, kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them for a second onto the oxygen mask over Clint’s mouth and nose. 

“I love you, too.”


	14. Is something burning? - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING?  
>  **Branding** | Heat Exhaustion | Fire
> 
> TW: non-con, slavery
> 
> Continued from [Day 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749237/chapters/65359702)

“Forty thousands five hundreds going once, going twice,” the auctioneer said and looked around in the hall and when no one raised his hand anymore he used his hammer and added, “Sold to Mr. Stark.” 

Clint closed his eyes and swallowed hard. 

Sold. He was sold. He was not a free man anymore. From now on he was officially the property of one Tony Stark. 

Guards entered the stage, opened the cuffs that had tied him to a post and led him away. For a moment he thought about struggling but he knew it was futile. It was always futile. He had seen them beat a guy to death who had tried.

Behind the stage where all the sold slaves waited for their owner, they locked him in a cage. He shivered. It was cold and he was naked. He had no idea how long he had to wait but as it turned out, not very long. 

Two guards came back, one of them unlocked the cage, the other one hooked a leash into the collar around his neck. It was difficult to get out of the small cage with his hands tied but one of the guards took his arm and pulled. 

The two led him to another room. It almost looked like a doctor’s office and his new owner was already waiting for him together with another man. 

“Here’s your purchase, Mr. Stark,” the slaver dealer, who had owned him before, said. “Do you want any special modifications? It’s included.” 

“No,” Stark said and shook his head. “Only the brand.” 

Clint’s mouth went dry. It was his first time on the block so the brand was obligatory and he knew it would hurt like hell. 

The guards brought him over to a wooden bench where he had to lie down face down. They tied him so he couldn’t move a muscle. A man in a lab coat came with a reading device, moved it over his back and it beeped. 

“The chip is okay,” the dealer said. “You have a week to register him now.” 

“Okay,” Stark said. 

“Do you want your own brand or the standard?” 

Stark turned to the man beside him. “Happy,” he said and the man reached into the bag he had with him and pulled out a branding iron. 

“Beautiful,” the dealer smiled. He gave it to the man in the lab coat and Clint could see him attach it to a handle and then took a blow torch to heat the iron. 

“No,” Clint whispered. He tried to struggle but something hard hit his ass and it hurt. 

“Don’t move,” the slave dealer snarled. 

“Please, no…” Clint said again. He wriggled around on the bench. The slave dealer waved the guards over and they, too, held him. 

“We don’t want the lines to be blurred,” he said and Stark seemed okay with it. He walked around the bench, hunkered down beside Clint and looked him in the eyes, a smile on his lips. 

“Please,” Clint whispered again and Stark reached out, put his hand on Clint’s cheek and let his thumb run over his lips. 

“It’s over soon,” he said and licked his lips. Clint swallowed hard again. 

The man in the lab coat came back. 

“Don’t let go of him now,” he said and pressed the iron against Clint’s shoulder blade. 

And then Clint screamed. The pain was excruciating. His flesh burnt and he could smell it. He tried to struggle but he couldn’t, he couldn’t get away and it hurt and he screamed and he wanted it to stop and the pain didn’t stop and it hurt, hurt, hurt and he screamed, screamed, screamed. 

Tears ran over his face when it was over and he sobbed. 

“Beautiful,” Stark said delightedly. “Absolutely beautiful. I will enjoy you so much.” 

Clint cried.


	15. Into the unknown - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN  
> Possession | Magical Healing | **Science Gone Wrong**

“He’s in there!” Steve called and hurried down the almost empty cell block. “I have him!” 

“Is he okay?” Tony asked and Steve could hear the worry in his voice. 

“I…” Steve managed because now that he stood in front of the only occupied cell, he could see the whole extent. 

Clint was unconscious, knelt in the middle of the cell, his head dropped onto his chest. He wore his pants but his shirt was gone. His hands were pulled upwards and chained to the ceiling and behind him…

“Tony,” Steve said slowly. “I…. uh… can you open the cell?” And a moment later he added. “And maybe come down, too.” 

“There are still…” 

“I don’t care,” Steve interrupted him. “Come down here!!” 

“Cap, what’s up?” Nat asked concerned. 

“Keep them away,” Steve commanded. “Whatever you do, keep those fuckers away.” 

“Cap,” Nat started again.

“Not now,” Steve said. That’s when the cell door slid to the side and he could enter the cell. He hunkered down in front of Clint, placed his fingers on his pulsepoint to check if he was okay. His heart beat steady, he was just unconscious. 

“Cap?” Tony called from the corridor and Steve rose and went out again. 

“Okay,” he said and placed his hand on Tony’s chest. “You… you have to keep cool, okay?” 

“What is with him, Cap?” Tony wanted to know. A month ago Clint disappeared while on a mission and he could understand that he wanted to know what’s up with his boyfriend.

“They… they did something with him,” he said. 

Tony wanted to pass Steve but he held his arm. He looked in his eyes and when Tony nodded he let go of him. 

Tony walked around him, went to the door and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Clint!” he breathed and slapped a hand over his mouth. He had seen it, had seen them. Two huge, brown wings sprouting out of Clint’s back. 

“What…” Tony looked at Steve. “What did they do?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “But we have to get him out of here.” 

Tony looked for another moment, then he entered the cell, hunkered down in front of Clint and gently patted his cheek.

“Clint,” he said. “Hey, Clint, baby. Come on, wakey, wakey. Time to go.” 

Clint didn’t react. 

“Friday?” Tony said and the AI of his suit scanned the unconscious man.

“He has narcotic substances in his bloodstream but - aside from the wings - he seems okay,” the AI said and Tony released the breath he held in his lungs.

“Let’s get him out of here,” he said, rose and snapped the chains with the help of his suit. He carefully folded the wings and took Clint bridal style on his arms to carry him out of the building, Steve in front of them. The other Avengers still fought against the guys who had held Clint captive.

When they were out Tony brought him to the quinjet and gently placed him onto the seats while Steve still shielded them. 

“We’ll find out what happened to you, babe,” he whispered and kissed his forehead. “We’ll help you.”


	16. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day - Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY  
> Forced to Beg | **Hallucinations** | Shoot the Hostage

“Hawkeye,” Phil said through the comms when he heard Clint sneeze. “Status.” 

Clint sneezed three more times before he could answer. 

“I’m okay,” he said. “But I was sprayed with something.” He looked around the corner to see if someone was in the lab. Just seconds before he had entered and a fine mist had hit him. He discovered a spraying device, controlled by a motion sensor and the moment he had opened the door, the device had dosed him with something. 

Phil was alarmed near instant. 

“Hawkeye! Mission abort! I repeat, mission abort! Return to the jet immediately.”

“But…” Clint started but Phil interrupted him.

“That’s an order, Hawkeye,” he snapped. He stared at the screen where the technician had hacked into the surveillance system. He couldn’t see Clint, but that was the general idea. 

“There’s… someone singing,” Clint suddenly said and he sounded weird, even over the comms. Phil’s mouth went dry. Something was really, really wrong with him and Natasha was too far away from him to get to him in time. 

“Sitwell,” he said to the other agent in the jet. “You take over here, I’ll get Hawkeye.” 

Jasper nodded once and then took the place behind the technician when Phil checked his gun and left the jet. It wasn’t too difficult to follow Clint to the building. He had taken out most of the guards and Phil arrived at the entrance only a minute later. He tapped his comm.

“Coast is clear,” Jasper said and Phil hurried through the corridors, guided by him. 

“Jesus!” Phil blurted as soon as he finally found Hawkeye… Clint. The man sat on the floor and tried to catch something out of the air. 

“Phil,” he giggled. “You’re pretty in pink,” he said and started to giggle some more. Phil raised a brow and went to him. Whatever they had given him, he was pretty out of it. One moment he giggled, the next moment he cried and rolled on the floor. 

“Clint, come on,” he said and went to him. He tried to get him onto his feet but Clint babbled some nonsense about Phil’s horns and why he didn’t get stuck with them all the time. 

“Clint,” Phil said again. “Come with me.” 

“Can you hear it, Phil?” he asked, his eyes wide as saucers and Phil saw his dilated pupils. “Can you?” 

“What can I hear?” Phil asked and pulled Clint onto his feet. 

“The smell of your hair, Phil! I can hear the small of your shampoo!” 

Phil just put one of Clint’s arms over his shoulder and tapped his comm with the other hand.

“Anyone out there?” he asked. 

“No,” Sitwell said over the comms. “You can go.” 

Phil grabbed Clint and walked with him out of the lab and Clint tried to catch something again with his free hand. 

“The butterflies,” he whispered in Phil’s ear. “They try to eat you, Phil!” 

“No, they won’t,” Phil said. “I used my anti-butterfly deodorant this morning.” 

“Clever! Very clever!” Clint giggled and stumbled over his own feet. 

“Phil, two guards are coming,” Sitwell said and Phil raised his gun. There was no time to be subtle anymore because right now Clint started to sing at the top of his voice. 

The two guards ran around the corner and Phil shot them in an instant. Clint started to cry. 

“You can’t shoot yellow penguins!” 

“They are evil,” he just said, grabbed Clint again and started to move faster. 

“Come on, Clint, help me here,” he muttered. “They are coming and we have to leave!” 

Two agents came in their directions, their rifles in their hands and they took care of the following guards. They helped Phil to get Clint in the quinjet and as soon as they were in the hatch closed and the pilot started. 

A few of the guards shot at the jet but the pilot managed to get away with almost no damage. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sitwell asked when he looked at Clint. Phil had strapped him on one seat and made sure he couldn’t open the belt. 

“Seems as if he’s hallucinating,” Phil said. “Contact Shield, we need a medical team as soon as we’re there.” 

Sitwell nodded and Phil went to Clint, sat down beside him and took his hands. His pupils were huge in the meantime and he was completely spaced out. Whatever happened to him, it was dangerous. 

“Hold on, babe,” he whispered. “Hold on, we’re almost there.” 

“The unicorns… Phil… the unicorns…” 

“Hold on!”


	17. I did not see that coming - Clint Barton & Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING  
> Blackmail | **Dirty Secret** | Wrongfully Accused

“He is what?” Tony blurted and stared at Bruce disbelievingly. His mouth was agape and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the information he just got. 

“It seems…” Bruce repeated slowly and very carefully, looking from Tony to Clint and back a few times. “It seems Clint is related to you.” 

Clint, who lay in a hospital bed, tried to sit up but the wound in his flank stopped him and he groaned. He had lots of blood when he got shot a few days ago and Tony was the only one available with the same blood type. 

“How… I mean… how do you know?” he asked and Bruce blushed. 

“I…” he said and scratched the back of his neck, “I was curious.” 

“You’ve been curious about my DNA?” Clint frowned and Bruce blushed some more. 

“Uh… yes?” 

“Yes, yes, that’s all fine and dandy… but I’m more interested in the ‘we’re related’ part of your discovery,” Tony interrupted them and gestured with his finger between him and Clint. 

“You share one parent,” Bruce said. 

Tony let out the air he had held in his lungs and looked at Clint.

“So… you’re the dirty little secret…” he muttered. 

“I’m what?” Clint tried to sit up again and winced once more. “I’m… I’m what?” 

“That’s what my mom always said,” Tony said and licked his lips. “She used to say my dad had a dirty little secret and she can’t prove it. I guess… I guess it’s been… you.” 

“So you mean… my mom… and your dad…” Clint said and stared at him with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Tony shrugged. “But I’ll find out.” 

“That’s…” Clint started and shook his head. 

“FRIDAY,” Tony said. 

“I understand, boss,” the AI said. 

“The dirty little secret, huh?” Clint said. He held his side when he sat up and groaned painfully. 

“Well, that’s what my mom said,” Tony said. “She knew he had paid a large sum to someone but she could never prove anything.” 

“A large sum?” Clint asked incredulously. But then, when he thought about it, the farm in Iowa was pretty huge and his father was a broke butcher. He never understood how they could afford to buy the farm. No one knew about the farm. 

But he knew where his mom had kept their papers and everything. 

“I have an idea,” he said. “But you have to trust me, Tony. And you can never tell anyone.” 

“What?” 

“Well, I have a dirty little secret, too,” he said and lay back. Yes he would show Tony. His brother.


	18. Panic! At the disco - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO  
> Panic Attacks | **Phobias** | Paranoia

“Okay, Agent Barton,” Dr. Okrona said and sighed. “Could please tell me again how it happened?” He leaned back in his armchair, removed his glasses, cleaned them and put them back on. Then he took his pencil again and looked at Clint, who sat on the couch opposite of him. 

“I told you twice,” he said. 

“Yes,” the doctor said and cocked his head. “But just to humor me.” 

“All right,” Clint sighed and licked his lips. “I’ve been in town with Tony and…” 

“You mean Tony Stark, your boyfriend,” Dr. Okrona said. 

“I told you already,” Clint huffed. “Okay, I’ve been in town with Tony when we heard the ice cream truck. Tony said he wanted ice cream, I asked him if he wasn’t too old for the ice cream truck and he said you’re never too old for it, so we turned and then I saw the clown.” 

“And you shot it,” the doctor said and Clint nodded. There was a huge plastic clown head on the ice cream truck and Clint had emptied a full magazine in it. 

“It was a reflex,” he said. “I saw the thing and I shot it.” 

“What if it was a real clown?” 

“I don’t know,” Clint said and let his head drop against the backrest of the couch. “I guess then I’d be in jail now and not here.” 

“Agent Barton,” the doctor said. “Did you ever hear about coulrophobia?” 

“Coulsowhat?” Clint blurted and looked up again. “Is that the fear of Phil Coulson?” 

“Coulrophobia,” the doctor said. “The fear of clowns.” 

“There’s a word for this?” Clint cocked his head. 

“Yes,” Dr. Okrona said and nodded. “And I’m pretty sure you’re suffering from it.” 

“You know that I grew up in a circus, right? With real clowns.” 

“Agent Barton,” the doctor said and looked at his notes. “This is the third incident in two years.” 

“I never shot a real clown, only… only plastic ones.” 

The doctor checked his notes once again. 

“True,” he said. “But what if you get startled by a real person wearing a clown costume? What if your Tony wears a clown costume or...” 

“You don’t know Tony,” he interrupted the doctor. “Otherwise you would never think that _he_ would wear something as ridiculous as a clown costume.” 

“Or you see a child in a clown costume,” Dr. Okrona continued his sentence, ignoring Clint’s outbreak. 

“I’m a trained assassin, doctor,” Clint said. “My reflexes are fast, really, really fast. And I never hit a target I didn’t want to hit. I can stop myself if I need to.” 

“Fear, Agent Barton, is nothing you can control,” Dr. Okrona said. “You think you can control yourself. But what if you’re intoxicated? What if you’re exposed to drugs or other substances? I know it happened in your field of work before. What if you can’t control yourself and you shoot someone because they wear a shirt with a clown on it?” 

“Okay,” Clint sighed. “And what can we do?” 

“I can help you,” the doctor said. “It’ll be a long way and it won’t be easy but I can help you. If you want me to.” 

Clint scrutinized him for a very long moment but then he nodded. 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”


	19. Broken Hearts - Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 19. BROKEN HEARTS  
> Grief | Mourning Loved One | **Survivor’s Guilt**

“Mom?” Lila asked when she came into the kitchen. Laura just stirred in a pot and hummed to a song on the radio. 

“Mom?” Lila said again and came closer. She looked over her shoulder and Laura turned to her. 

“What’s up?” she asked and Lila turned back, leaned against the counter and looked out of the window. 

“Is… uh… is dad okay?” she asked. Laura stopped stirring and turned to her daughter now. 

“Why do you ask?” she said and Lila shrugged but she bit her lip and shifted her feet. 

“I… he’s… we wanted to shoot arrows and he…” she looked out of the window. 

“He what?” Laura asked. “Do I really have to worm everything out of you?” 

“He’s in the hayloft,” Lila said. “And he had pulled up the ladder, too.” 

Laura looked at her for a very long moment. She looked over her shoulder at little Nate, who sat at the table and drew a picture. 

“All right, baby,” she said to Lila then. “Can you look out for your brother for a minute?” 

She turned off the flame, moved the pot away from it and covered it with a lid. Lila nodded and went to the table, too, sat down beside her brother and looked at his picture. 

Laura removed her apron and went over to the stable. Lila was right, the ladder was gone. 

“Clint?” she called and looked up into the hole in the ceiling. “Clint!” 

It was quiet in the stable and Laura still looked up into the hole. 

“I know you’re up there,” she called. 

It took a long moment but then she saw a movement up there and the ladder appeared. Laura climbed up and found Clint sitting on a hay bale. She walked over to him, sat down beside him and touched his shoulder with her own. But she didn’t talk. She just waited for him to start talking. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a while. He looked at his fingers and licked his lips. Laura looked at him, reached over and took his hand. 

“Clint,” she whispered quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I… I wanted it to be me.” 

Laura closed her eyes for a second. 

“I tried, Laura, I tried… I wanted Natasha to live… and then… then I would’ve betrayed you and… and Cooper and Lila and Nate… I…”

“Clint,” Laura said again and squeezed his hand. “Natasha would’ve never let you do this.” 

“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t try it.” 

“Oh, Clint,” Laura whispered. 

“I betrayed her,” he said and tears ran over his cheeks. 

Laura put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him over to her. At first he seemed reluctant but when she didn’t let go of him, he gave an, placed his head on her shoulder. She just caressed his back and let him cry. He stayed like that for more than half an hour but then she could feel his shoulders relax a bit. 

“You know that I love you,” he murmured without looking up. “You and the kids.” 

“I know. We know.” She kissed his head. “And Nat knew, too.”


	20. Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore - Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE  
>  **Lost** | Field Medicine | Medieval

“You gotta be fucking kidding!” Clint coughed when he could breathe again. He lay on his back, stared at the open sky and hit the sand beneath him with his fist. 

“At least,” Bucky said beside him, “we’re alive.” 

Clint sat up and his head spun. He looked around and saw sand… and water. 

“Fuck,” he blurted. There was only one last piece of the quinjet floating on the ocean. “We’re fucked, Buck,” he said and dropped back onto the sand. 

“No,” Bucky said. “The word you’re looking for is lost.” 

“Fuck you,” Clint muttered and sighed. 

“ _I_ didn’t fly that thing,” Bucky growled and sat up. He rose, removed his tac vest and his shoes and looked around. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Clint mumbled and sat up, too. Bucky turned and started to walk along the beach. 

“Hey!” He called after him. “Where are you going?” 

“I will check out where we are? And if we have water!” Bucky called back. Clint blinked a few times. That was actually a good idea. His phone was in the jet and the jet lay on the ground of the ocean close to an island somewhere in the middle of nowhere. 

“Wait!” Clint called and hurried after Bucky. 

“You could’ve taken the other way,” Bucky said and looked at Clint from the side. 

“Not advisable,” Clint said. “I’ve seen too many disaster movies to know it’s not a good idea.” 

“Huh?” Bucky asked and stopped for a moment to scrutinize him. 

“Well, in disaster movies, when people separate to check out their surroundings, they both get killed. So, we stay together and have each other’s back.” 

“You’re weird, Barton,” Bucky said and Clint started to grin. 

“That’s why you love me,” he said and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know why,” he muttered, turned and started to walk again. Clint cackled and followed him. 

Six hours later they were back where they started. They had found freshwater and banana trees and Bucky had told him that he was sure there were edible fish around them. 

“Until they find us,” he said, “we have to do the best we can to survive.” 

“True,” Clint said. “And we have time to…” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence because Bucky had already shoved him back into the sand, straddled him and kissed him. 

“But I think we’ll manage all right.”


	21. I don't feel so well - Clint Barton & Lucky the pizza dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL  
>  **Chronic Pain** | Hypothermia | Infection

He let the door shut when he entered his apartment. Lucky came up to him, jumped and barked and demanded to be petted. 

“Hey, my boy,” Clint said and smiled at the dog. Lucky licked his face and Clint leaned back against the door. “Yeah, we’re going for a walk. Just… give me a minute.” 

The dog moved down and went to his empty food bowl. Clint closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Yeah,” he said and moved to the kitchen. His back hurt like a motherfucker right now and he groaned, when he leaned down to pick up the bowl. He took a can of dog food, opened it and scraped the content into the bowl. He leaned down to place it back on the ground and could barely get up again. 

“Fuck,” he cursed and reached for the counter. With a hand on it he managed to get up again and leaned back against the fridge. “Fuck!” 

Lucky looked at his food bowl for a second, then at Clint, then at the food again. 

“Come on,” Clint gestured. “Go for it.” 

The dog sat down and started to whine. Clint groaned when he moved away from the fridge and patted the dog’s head. 

“Go for it,” he said again before he slowly moved to the stairs. His damn back! He fell on it too many times and now it hurts all the time. With lots of ‘fucks’ he climbed up the stairs, shuffled to his bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He saw the bottle of pills Dr. Sandman had given him - Vicodin - and opened it. He took out a pill, swallowed it with a handful of water and shuffled back to his bedroom. 

With another groan he dropped onto the bed and tried not to move until the effect kicked in. 

“Fuck,” he cursed silently. Since he fell onto his back with his quiver still on it hurt like a motherfucker every day. He had tried it with physiotherapy, he had tried it with all kinds of non-prescription painkillers but nothing worked. Hell, he even had tried yoga with Natasha. 

But then Jameson from Strike Team Kappa had told him about Dr. Sandman and Clint went to him. Of course the Doc charged too much money but his job came with a really good salary and he could afford it. And finally he got the medication he needed. 

It took some time but eventually he could move again. He sat up, wiped his face and found Lucky sitting beside the bed. 

“Hey,” he said and reached out. The dog hurried over and licked Clint’s face while he ran his hands through the dog’s thick fur. “Hey, my boy. You need to go out, right?” 

The dog started to wag his tail and Clint rose. He walked down the stairs, still a little bit slow and searched for the leash. Lucky woofed a few times when he saw it and hurried to the door as fast as possible. He almost hit the wall in his excitement. 

“Right, my boy,” Clint said. “Let’s go for a walk.” He attached the leash to Lucky’s collar and he took the frisbee. He would take him to the dog park, too. The pain in his back was gone and the dog was alone the whole day. He needed to blow off steam.


	22. Do these tacos taste funny to you? - Clint Barton & Phil Coulson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?  
> Poisoned | Drugged | **Withdrawal**

Clint screamed and struggled violently when the men dragged him through a white corridor. His hands were handcuffed, his feet, too, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to get away. He just twisted in their grip and managed to bite one of the guys and they let him drop down to the ground. 

“Fuck!” one of the guys cursed and Clint tried to crawl away. But the men were trained agents and he was a scrawny teenager with a drug problem. They grabbed the chain between his feet and pulled him now through the corridor.

One of them unlocked one of the white steel doors and the men pulled him in. 

“No!” Clint screamed and twisted. “Let me go! Let me out of here!” 

“In a few days, Mr. Barton,” a guy said. It was the most boring man Clint had ever seen in his life. But he was the man who had found him and managed to capture him. 

The room was empty, aside from a dirty mattress and a steel toilet. There were no windows and only the whilte door. The agents removed the cuffs and slammed the door shut behind him. Clint ran to the door, too, hammered with his fists against it and screamed that he wanted to go home. But it stayed shut. 

“Shit,” he whispered. He leaned against the wall and slid down till he sat on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his legs and dropped his head on his knees. Damn SHIELD! They had captured him this morning and he could already feel that he needed _it_. 

His head started to hurt and he felt as if the walls closed in on him. 

“Shit,” he cursed again. His heart started to beat faster and the walls still seemed to come up to him. His hand trembled and it was hot, so hot. 

He had no idea how long he was here already but he was thirsty and the only water available was the water in the toilet. And he wasn’t that desperate yet. 

The walls came closer and it became hard to breathe because the air seemed to vanish, too, and his heart beat like a jackhammer in his chest. He looked at the door, wanted to know if someone would come but it stayed closed. 

Sweat ran in his eyes and Clint moved his hands to wipe it away. He saw his hands tremble and he was so thirsty. He lay down on his side but not on the dirty mattress. He started to shiver again and his stomach felt queasy. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please…” He had no idea how long he was here already. Could be minutes, could be days. He had lost track of time. 

When his stomach churned he crawled over to the bowl. With tears in his eyes he hurled but only bile came up. His heart stuttered and he lay down again, stared at the ceiling, stared at his trembling hands… and puked again. This time on his shirt. He didn’t make it to the bowl again. 

More tears ran over his face. 

“Please! Help me!” 

His chest felt so tight, he was pretty sure his heart would stop any moment and it was cold. Why was it so cold in this damn cell? His hands shivered, his whole body shivered and the walls moved in on him. 

At one point he fell asleep but the dreams were too fearful and he startled awake screaming. His heart beat too fast and he was drenched in sweat. He shivered and his whole body was wrecked with cramps. 

“Please,” he pleaded. “Help me!” 

He wrapped his arms around his knees again and whimpered when the walls moved to him again, tried to enclose him, came closer and closer and he couldn’t breathe and his body hurt and sweat ran into his eyes and all the pain. He hurled again, this time on the floor beside him. 

“Please,” he whimpered. 

Clint startled when the door went open. He fell asleep without noticing. Apparently his body just shut down. He turned around and everything hurt, his whole body hurt. 

“Congratulations, Mr. Barton,” the agent with the bland face said and hunkered down beside him. “You survived the worst part of your amphetamine withdrawal. And in a few weeks you’re ready to join SHIELD.” 

“Still don’t want to join you,” Clint muttered and wrapped both arms around his torso. 

“Still non-negotiable,” the man smiled. “Welcome to SHIELD.”


	23. What's a whumpee gotta do to get some sleep around here? - Clint Barton/Steve Rogers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?  
>  **Exhaustion** | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Clint held his breath, waited a second… and then shot. The man on the other side of the street dropped down, his bodyguards pulled their guns and searched for the shooter. With a groan Clint rolled over his shoulder and lay on his back for a second.

“Got him,” he said then through the comm. 

“Good,” Steve answered. “Come down and…” 

“Can’t,” Clint groaned and yawned. He sat on this damn roof for fifty-two hours and stared through the scope and now he was dead tired. 

“Clint,” Steve sounded alarmed. “Are you okay? Are you injured?” 

The roof wasn’t big enough to provide cover for two people and so Steve had to stay in one of the floors beneath him. 

“No,” Clint yawned again. Now that the tension had eased, the exhaustion hit him like a freight train. He could hear sirens down in the streets and he knew he should get away before the cops would find him. He yawned again. “Just tired,” he said. 

He dropped the rifle beside him and tried to sit up but his muscles refused to work. He yawned once more. And then he could hear steps coming from the side. Steve hurried over to him, ducked so no one would be able to see him from down the street. 

“Come on, babe,” he said. “The cops are already searching for you.” 

As fast as possible he disassembled Clint’s rifle and threw it in the bag. He slung it over his shoulder before he put his hand under Clint’s knees and back and started to carry him off of the roof. He tried to stay covered so the cops wouldn’t see them. Clint yawned a few times. He could barely keep his eyes open. The only thing he wanted right now was a bed. 

“Where are we going?” he mumbled. Steve didn’t go to the elevator. 

“We take the stairs,” he said and ran down, Clint still bridal style in front of him. He managed to get three floors down without killing them both when he heard voices and steps from over them. He pressed his back against the door, opened it quietly and sneaked in. 

They stood in a corridor with a few doors on each side of it. Steve hurried along and stopped in front of one of them. 

“Can you stand, honey?” He asked and let go of Clint’s legs. They dropped to the ground and Clint whined. He’s been half asleep already and now he woke up again. Steve fumbled with a key and then the door went open. 

“How…” Clint mumbled and Steve shoved him in. 

“I used the time we had to wait to get us a hideout,” he said and grabbed Clint’s legs again. 

“Awesome,” Clint managed and yawned again. Steve brought him to a bedroom, lay him down on the bed and the moment his head hit the cushion he was out like a light. 

Steve smiled softly. 

“Good night, baby,” he whispered and closed the door behind Clint. He would call their client now and close the deal. And then he would take Clint and the money and stay in their house in Canada for a long while.


	24. You're not making any sense - Clint Barton & Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE  
>  **Forced Mutism** | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

Clint hated sorcerers. He hated them with every fiber of his being. All of them. Loki, Hela… even Dr. Strange! Maybe not Wanda. Maybe. 

He cursed silently and hit the iron bars that held him locked in a small cell. He would’ve screamed, would call insults at his captor… but it was impossible. 

A week ago someone broke into Dr. Strange’s lair in New York and stole one of his books. He had no idea how they even managed to get in but they did and not even Dr. Strange had an explanation. He called the Avengers for help. He needed them to find the guy because apparently he managed to hide somewhere the Doc couldn’t find him.

The guy - he called himself Astarian the Magician - was good. More than good. He also got away from the Avengers. But then Clint did somethiing dumb. He shot at him and somehow he injured him and the Magician was furios, that he threw some spell at him and took Clint with him. 

“You will pay for that, archer,” he had hissed and locked Clint in this damn cell where he sat now. 

“Really?” Clint had said and snorted. “You’re not the first one who tried and…” 

The Magician moved his hand and Clint’s voice vanished. 

“Shut up,” the man snapped. 

Clint moved his lips, tried to talk… but couldn’t. He couldn’t get a single word out, not even a sound. Nothing. 

“Better,” Astarian grinned. Clint gave him the finger. The sorcerer raised a brow and cocked his head.

“Do you want me to let your fingers vanish, too?” he asked and Clint swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good,” the man said and hurried away.

Clint wanted to curse but he couldn’t. He went to the wall of his cell, slid along to the ground and sat down. But when he heard an explosion he jumped up on his feet again. He could hear shots and Tony’s repulsors and Steve’s shield. 

“I have him!” Natasha called. “He’s here!” 

Clint hurried to the bars that held him prisoner. 

“Are you okay?” she asked and Clint nodded. 

“All right,” she said and pulled one of the tiny explosive devices out and attached it at the lock. “Step back.” 

Clint did and he pressed his hands over his ears. A moment later he could hear the explosion and he turned around again. Natasha gave him one of her guns and he nodded thankfully. 

“Let’s go,” she said and ran back to the Avengers and Clint followed her.

***

“What the fuck,” Tony blurted when he looked at the x-ray pictures Bruce had taken. Clint gritted his teeth and glared at him.

 _’What?’_ he signed impatiently and both, Bruce and Tony, now looked at him. 

“Your… uh… your vocal cords…” Bruce said and when Clint gestured to go ahead, he said, “they are gone.” 

Clint’s brows hit his hairline. _’What?’_

“I have no idea, Clint,” Bruce said. “But the way this looks…” he shook his head. 

“We can ask Dr. Strange if…” 

_’NO!’_ Clint signed. _’No more sorcerers!’_

“Do you want to stay mute?” Natasha asked. She stood in the back of the infirmary room they were in and had folded her arms over her chest. 

_’I don’t trust them.’_ Clint signed. 

“You trust Wanda,” she said and when she saw Clint hesitate for a moment. “You do, right?” 

After a long moment he nodded. Bruce and Tony shared a glance. 

“She won’t hurt you, Clint,” Bruce said then. “She likes you.” 

“And you know that,” Tony added. Clint rolled his eyes but after a long moment he nodded again and Natasha smiled and left the room. 

“She won’t hurt you,” Bruce said again when he looked at him. The door went open again and Nat came back, Wanda in tow. The young woman was pale like a sheet. 

“Nat told me,” she said and went to Clint. “Let me help you. I can help you.” 

Clint closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded once more. 

_’I trust you.’_ he signed. Wanda looked at Nat and she nodded, too. 

“Close your eyes,” Wanda said and a moment later he could feel her fingers at his throat, could feel the warmth of her skin and… something else. He swallowed when it started to tingle and then her fingers were gone. 

“Say something,” she said and Clint licked his lips. 

“Uh… thank you?” His voice was back! He could talk again. Without thinking about it he wrapped his arms around Wanda and kissed her cheek. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear and he meant it. 

“You’re welcome.”


	25. I think I'll collapse right here, thanks - Clint Barton & parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS  
> Disorientation | Blurred Vision | **Ringing Ears**

Daddy was angry. Daddy was angry a lot nowadays. He wasn’t as angry when he went to work every day. But lately he didn’t go, he stayed at home a lot. He drank beer and he watched TV and sometimes he yelled at Mommy and Barney and him, Clint. 

Clint was scared when Daddy was angry. He yelled at Mommy at the moment because there was no beer in the fridge. Mommy forgot to put it inside because she had to look after Barney’s homework. And now Daddy was angry. 

“Is there anything you can do right?” he screamed and Mommy stepped back, her back hit the fridge and she shook her head. 

“I’m sorry, Harold, I just forgot it,” she said when Daddy yelled at her. “But Barney…” 

“I don’t care!” Daddy screamed. And then he raised his hand and Clint knew he would hit Mommy. Clint hated when Daddy hit Mommy because she cried. She hid in her laundry room and cried. 

“Do I have to teach you again?” Daddy just yelled and Mommy tried to hide her face. He knew Daddy would hurt Mommy.

“No!” Clint screamed and ran to her. Daddy stopped, saw him coming, his face angry and then he just hit him, Clint. 

He slithered through the kitchen and hit his head at the door. It hurt. It hurt so much! Mommy stared open-mouthed for a moment but then she ran to him. She moved her mouth but Clint couldn’t hear her. His ears rang. It was an awful sound and it didn’t stop, not even when he shook his head. His ears hurt and he couldn’t understand Mommy. 

She moved her mouth and Clint looked at her and he cried. He knew that he cried, he could feel the tears on his face but he couldn’t hear himself. He could only hear the loud, ringing sound. 

Mommy reached for him, wrapped him in her arms and checked him out. 

‘Mommy’? He said but he couldn’t hear himself. His ears didn’t work. They only made this awful sound. ‘Mommy’?

Mommy sat back, she looked at him and she talked but Clint didn’t know what she said. He looked at her mouth. 

‘Mommy’?

Mommy turned around and yelled at Daddy now who just glared at the two of them. But Clint couldn’t hear what she said, what he said. He took a bottle of beer and went back to his armchair and Clint just cried. He reached up and touched his ears because they hurt. And then Mommy grabbed his hand and stared at it. There was blood on his fingers. 

Mommy turned around, she moved her mouth and said something to Daddy but Clint had no idea what she said. But then she grabbed him and dragged him to the door. She shoved Clint onto the backseat of the car and drove away. 

‘Mommy, where are we going,’ Clint asked and he saw that Mommy said something but his ears still rang and hurt. Tears ran over his face and Mommy drove faster. And then Clint saw where she drove to. It was the hospital. He knew it because he’s been there before when Daddy was angry at him. 

She parked the car and took his hand to lead him into the emergency room. Clint remembered that word, he had heard it a few times before. That was where the doctors looked at him. Mommy talked to a nurse and they had to wait but not very long. They went to a doctor’s room and he sat down on the bed and the doctor looked in his ear. 

When Mommy started to cry Clint knew something was wrong. She moved her mouth and the doctor moved his mouth but Clint could only hear the ringing in his ears. Mommy went to him and wrapped her arms around him again and now she cried, too. 

His ears didn’t stop ringing.


	26. If you thought the head trauma was bad... - Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD…  
> Migraine | **Concussion** | Blindness

“Aww, doctor, no,” Clint muttered and slid to the edge of the hospital bed. Dr. Creed just looked over the rim of his glasses, raised one brow… and turned to Natasha. 

“Clint,” she said, “you stay in bed.” 

“Aww, Nat, no!” Clint whined now. 

“You have a concussion, Agent Barton,” the doctor said and removed his glasses to clean them. 

“It’s not that severe, it’s just…” Clint started but now Nat made a step in his direction. 

“It’s a concussion, Clint,” she said. “And you stay in bed.” 

“No, it’s just a headache, I can…” 

“Do you want me to get the handcuffs?” Natasha asked and when she saw Clint’s gaze she added, “The cuffs Coulson gave me.” 

“You’re no fun at all,” he muttered under his breath but he lay down nevertheless. He winced and Nat could see that he was clearly in more pain than he was willing to admit, but he stayed in bed and that was a good sign. 

The doctor went to the door and Natasha pulled a chair over, placed it beside Clint’s bed, sat down and put her feet onto the mattress beside Clint’s leg. He stared at it for a long moment. 

“What are you doing?” he wanted to know. 

“What do you think? I’ll stay here till the doctor says you can leave.” 

“But that’s… uh… uhm…” he deliberated for a moment and Nat sighed inwardly. “Forty-eight hours! That’s two days, Nat!”

“I know,” she said and reached in her pocket, pulled her phone out and started to type.

“You can’t stay forty-eight hours,” Clint said and glared at her. “You have to eat and you have to sleep and… and shower!” 

“That’s why I just sent a message to Steve,” she said with an evil smirk. “He will come in a few hours, will bring me food and take over for a while.” 

“You really don’t have to stay,” Clint said and Natasha couldn’t hold back the snort. 

“Yeah,” she said. “That was a good one!” She cocked her head. “Honey, I know you well enough. If I’d turn my back on you for five seconds, you’d disappear through the vents. No, no, I’ll stay right here in this chair till Steve is here to guard you.”

“Guard me sounds so negative,” Clint muttered. 

“Well,” Natasha said and shrugged. She folded her arms over her stomach and looked at him. “You can as well sleep. You need to rest.” 

Clint slid down in the bed and pulled the blanket over himself, but still glared at her. But Nat saw that his gaze wasn’t as sharp as it used to be because of the concussion. She also was aware about the risk of flight. Clint disappeared before and worsened his condition.

“You’re no fun,” he grumbled and Nat gave him a sweet smile. 

“I know, I love you, too!”


	27. Okay, who had natural disaster on their 2020 Bingo card? - Clint Barton & Barney Barton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?   
> **Earthquake** | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

Clint lay on his bunk in the trailer he shared with his brother. He was sleeping when he suddenly was awakened. Someone shook his bed. 

“Barney, no,” he muttered and wanted to shove his brother away… but he reached into thin air. No one was there. But the bed still shook. He opened his eyes… and realized that it wasn’t his brother. The whole damn trailer shook. 

He jumped down to the ground and almost lost his balance. Almost. He managed to get to the door when he saw one of the huge posts of the Big Top swaying back and forth. He heard the screams of the other athletes and the animals. Screams of panic and fear. 

“Earthquake?” he blurted and jumped to the side when the post finally gave in and fell. Unfortunately it landed on Clint’s and Barney’s trailer. 

“Fuck!” he cursed and tried to get out of the way but it was difficult. The whole ground shook violently and Clint could barely stay on his feet. He also heard the noise of falling buildings in the distance. They were a little outside of San Francisco but the noise was still audible. 

“Barney!” Clint called. He didn’t see his brother and he looked around while he tried to get out of the chaos. He had no idea in which direction he should go. 

But then he heard another sound and this time he literally jumped to the side. Two of the elephants escaped their cages and ran through the debris, filled with panic and screaming for their lives. 

“Barney!” Cint yelled and fell on his knees during the next shock of earth. Two trailers slid in his direction and he tried to get away. 

“Fuck, Clint!” he heard someone curse and drag him out of the way. It was Buck and he bled out of a few huge wounds. 

“Buck!” Clint sighed relieved. “Where’s Barney?” 

“Sorry, kid,” Buck breathed. “I haven’t seen him.” 

“Barney!” Clint yelled again but Buck grabbed him at his arm and dragged him away.

“No, I need to find my brother,” Clint protested but Buck didn’t let go of him. Somehow they managed to get far away enough from the Big Top and the earth stopped moving. Many of the artists were here, some bled, some were more injured, some were unconscious. 

And then he heard a voice calling his name.

“Clint!” He whirled around and Barney came over to him. He bled out of a few scratches but nothing too serious. “Thank god, I thought you were dead!” 

“I thought the same about you,” Clint admitted. 

“Just a few scratches,” Barney said and looked around. “Do you think it’s over?” 

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “Sometimes there are aftershocks.” 

Barney nodded slowly. “We’ll see.” 

“Until then,” Clint said and pointed in the direction of the two elephants. “Let’s see if we can help capture Ellie and Rosie.” 

“Right,” Barney agreed. “Come on.”


	28. Such wow. Many normal. Very oops. - Cllnt Barton/Bucky Barnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS.  
> Accidents | Hunting Season | **Mugged**

As if his day wasn’t bad enough already, this was the last straw. 

This morning, when Clint woke, he had had a car and a job and home and a boyfriend. And now? Now his life lay in ruins. 

He had kissed Zack this morning, had taken his car keys and left to go to work as a security specialist. But on his way to work someone ignored his right of way and hit his car. The guy was drunk and they had to wait for the cops. The whole incident took more than an hour. And his car was a total loss, so he also had to wait for the tow service to remove the wreck. He found a taxi and drove to HYDRA Inc. only to be greeted by his boss, Alexander Pierce, himself. He yelled at him, called him a failure and that he was too late for the last time. And he fired him. 

Clint stared at him disbelievingly but Pierce had said he should get his stuff and leave the building. Together with a guard he had fetched his things and left. Of course he didn’t get a taxi outside and so he started to walk to go home by bus. It took him almost an hour till he stood in front of his apartment door. He put the box beside the door, unlocked it and went in. He expected the apartment to be empty but when he placed the box on the living room table he could hear voices. 

Clint cocked his head and listened. The voices came from the bedroom. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment before he went over and opened the door. Zack was there and he was not alone. 

“Hey, babe,” Clint said, the sarcasm almost palpable. “I’m home.” 

Zack whirled around and the woman he was with started to scream. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Zack yelled and Clint just glared at him. 

“I got fired because I had an accident!” he snapped. The woman wrapped the blankets around herself and stared at Clint but he just went to the dresser, opened it, took out his leather jacket and his bow case and left the bedroom. 

“Clint, wait!” Zack said and followed him, still buck ass naked. Clint didn’t turn around, he just dropped his keys on the living room table, took his wallet and went to the door. “Wait! I can explain…” 

“There’s nothing you need to explain,” Clint said and looked at him for a moment. “Have fun with… whoever that is.” 

“Clint, please…” he said but Clint was out of the door already. He slammed it shut behind himself and Zack tore it open a moment later. He stood naked as he was in the corridor. 

“Let me at least explain,” he called after him and Clint turned around again.

“Explain? You cheated on me with that bimbo, that’s enough explanation.” 

“Clint!” He didn’t turn back again, he just walked down the stairs and onto the street again. He would get the rest of his stuff later. Right now he didn’t want to see the asshat no more. 

Out on the streets he had no idea where to go and so he just started to walk along the sidewalk. He muttered silently under his breath when someone grabbed his shoulder. Clint saw a switchblade out of the corner of his eyes and he reacted on instinct. He grabbed the man’s hand, moved his body and threw him over his shoulder. The man landed on his back and Clint could literally hear the air leaving his lungs. But Clint wasn’t done with him yet. 

“You want to mug me?” he yelled. “You actually want to mug me? In broad daylight? In the middle of the street?” 

And he kicked the shit out of the guy. He let off all his anger and his frustration and just beat the everloving shit out of him. 

“Hey!” someone said when Clint just swung at him again. The guy was a bleeding mess on the ground in the meantime. The someone grabbed his arm and stopped him. 

“Let go of me!” Clint hissed and turned around only to look in the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“Come on, he has enough,” the man said. “He’s learned his lesson.” 

He turned to the bleeding man on the ground. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked and shoved him with his foot. 

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled and tried to move his hands. 

“See?” the guy said to Clint now and then cocked his head. “Rough day?” 

“Oh man, you have no idea,” Clint huffed and wiped his face. 

“You look like you need a drink,” the guy grinned and Clint looked at the bleeding man on the street again. “We call the cops and tell them where they can find him,” he added then and Clint eventually nodded. 

“A drink would be awesome,” he said and the man held his hand out for Clint to shake it. 

“My name is James, but friends call me Bucky,” he said and Clint smiled back at him. 

“Clint,” he said. “My name is Clint.”


	29. I think I need a doctor - Clint Barton & Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR  
>  **Intubation** | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

“Trauma room!” Bruce bellowed and started to shove the gurney in said direction, together with Dr. Cho and a nurse. 

Two minutes ago Steve and Tony had carried Clint into the SHIELD infirmary, followed by Natasha and Scott. 

“What happened?” Bruce, who helped out in the infirmary when the Avenges don’t need him, asked. 

“He got dosed with something,” Steve said and he and Tony had placed the archer on a gurney a nurse had shown them. “We don’t know what it is, he just said he couldn’t breathe and we hurried to bring him in.”

The four Avengers followed the doctors to the trauma room and when the nurse wanted to shoo them away, Steve glared at her and Bruce nodded. 

“It’s okay,” he said and started to work immediately. Bruce stood at Clint’s head. He pulled his head to him and told the nurse he needed a Macintosh blade before he carefully opened Clint’s mouth. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Scott asked but Bruce ignored him right now. 

He shoved the blade in Clint’s mouth, carefully not to hit the teeth and moved Clint’s lip out of the way with his finger. He held the blade and gently moved it in Clint’s throat.

“I can see the epiglottis,” he said then. He looked some more and muttered under his breath before he looked at the nurse. 

“Give me a tube,” he said. “Seven point five.” 

The nurse gave it to Bruce and he started to gently shove it in Clint’s mouth, cursed a few times and then he sighed. He added a respirator before he turned to the other Avengers. Dr. Cho just adjusted the respirator behind them.

“What happened?” Bruce asked and both, Steve and Tony, knew what he really wanted to know. ‘Would it have happened if I was with you?’

“They had gas grenades,” Nat said. “I was far away, Scott and Tony were protected by their helmets and Steve…”

“Well, you know Steve,” Tony added. 

“But we don’t know what it is,” Scott added. 

“We will find out,” Dr. Cho said and turned around. “But you have to let us work now.” 

“You… you will call us if something happens, right?” Nat wanted to know and Bruce nodded. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” he said and removed his glasses to clean them. 

“Thank you,” Nat smiled and Bruce nodded. 

“But now you have to let me do my work,” he said. “Let’s find why our friend can’t breath properly.”


	30. Now where did that come from? - Clint Barton & Steve Rogers (pre amerihawk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?  
> Wound Reveal | **Ignoring an Injury** | Internal Organ Injury

“We’re almost there,” Steve breathed and pointed at the dark spot in the snow. He turned to look over his shoulder at Clint and the other man nodded. It seemed to be a hunting cabin.

“There’s no smoke so no one’s there… or they’re sitting in the cold,” Clint added a moment later.

“That’s good,” Steve sighed. “I’m not overly keen to meet other people.” 

He smiled at Clint but the archer was unusually quiet since they escaped their pursuers into the wilderness. He just nodded and when Steve started to trudge through the snow again, Clint followed him quietly. 

They arrived at the dark spot and it was actually a hunting cabin and Steve sighed relieved. 

“Thank god,” he muttered and went to the door. It wasn’t locked and he opened it and went in. The shutters were closed and Clint walked around the cabin to open them. Steve had looked at the stove in the meantime. There was wood and matches and he started to light a fire. 

“There’s more wood outside,” Clint said and now Steve looked up and scrutinized him. 

“Clint,” he said and when the archer looked away, he was alarmed immediately. “Clint, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Clint said and looked at his feet. “It’s… nothing.” 

There was another door in the room and when Steve opened his mouth Clint opened it. It was a bathroom. He went in and closed the door behind himself. Even if it was still freezing cold, he shrugged out of his camo anorak and winced. He could see his breath when he put the warm jacket onto the bathtub. There was another stove in this room, one that would heat the room as well as the water. 

Clint lifted his blood soaked woolen jumper. Natasha would kill him after all, she had spent hours to knit it. He removed the blood soaked cloth he had pressed onto it and winced again. It stuck to the sides but when he removed it blood started to drizzle out of it. 

“Fuck!” he cursed quietly and just wanted to search for a towel when Steve knocked at the door.

“Clint, open the door,” he commanded and Clint realized he had heard him. Damn super soldier hearing. 

“I’m okay,” Clint said again but the next moment he almost fell into the bathtub when the door hit him in the back. “Ouch!” 

“Oh my god,” Steve blurted. Of course he had seen the gash in his side. 

“Dude,” Clint complained and tried to get out of the tub. “I could’ve been naked.” 

“I’ve seen you naked before,” Steve just said and helped him out of the tub. He grabbed his shoulder and turned him so he could see the wound. 

“What the fuck, Clint,” Steve snapped and glared at him sternly. 

“Language,” Clint retorted immediately. 

“That’s not funny,” Steve said. “That’s a serious wound. Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve died!” 

“I’m not that easy to kill, Cap,” Clint tried to grin but failed because now that they were out of the cold it started to hurt a lot. 

“Uh huh,” Steve said and dragged him back to the other room. “And the red stains on your clothes are just ketchup, right?” 

“It’s nothing serious, it’s just…” 

“Stop it! Right now!” Steve said in his Captain America voice and Clint actually stopped. “Lie down on the couch. 

“It’s too short to lie down,” Clint grumbled. Steve gave him ‘The Look’ ™ and Clint gave in and lay down. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m closing the wound,” Steve said when he started to rummage through the contents of his rucksack. He found the med kit and opened it. 

“Wha…” Clint tried to protest and Steve glared at him again. 

“You’re bleeding out if I don’t close it,” he said. “You already lost lots of blood. You’re white as a sheet.” 

“But…” Clint whined and wanted to get up but Steve’s warm hand on his skin stopped him and his mouth went dry even if he was in a great deal of pain. “Okay.” 

Steve took the surgical needle and started to work. They all had learned to do it because it could save a life, Bruce had said. It hurt like a bitch and Clint squirmed a lot but Steve’s hand held him back. 

“All right,” Cap said a few moments later. He searched for some gauze and tape to attach it over the wound and then he rose. “This should do it until we’re back in HQ.” 

“Thanks,” Clint said, his mouth still painfully dry. He licked his lips and now Steve blushed violently. 

“I… uh… I’ll see if there’s some tea and… yes…” he said, rose and went to the stove. 

“Steve,” Clint said and Steve turned around again. “Thank you,” he said again. And Steve nodded with a smile.


	31. Today's special: Torture - Clint Barton/Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE  
>  **Experiment** | Whipped | Left for Dead

“Oh my god,” Tony blurted when he entered the room behind the thick metal doors. It took him some time and FRIDAYs help to get in but when it opened the first thing he noticed was the smell. It smelled like blood, urine… and worse substances.

The room itself was white tiled from floor to ceiling and it looked more like a torture chamber than a laboratory even if the shield beside the door claimed it was one. 

“What’s wrong, Tony?” Steve asked. 

“I found some sort of… lab,” he said. “But if this is a lab… I don’t know… HYDRA and me have definitely different ideas of what a laboratory should look like.” 

“What did they do there?” Nat wanted to know and Tony shuddered if he thought about those experiments. 

“I’m not sure,” he said. “But over there is an office, maybe I’ll find some data there.” 

“All right,” Steve said. “Let us know what you find, we’ll continue searching this place.” 

Tony went to the office, opened the door and saw a few computers. They were all shut off but it shouldn’t be a problem for him. He stepped out of his suit, told FRIDAY to check his surroundings and started one of the computers. The technology was old and easy to get in for a genius. Thankfully they had managed to take out all the HYDRA goons before they could delete their data. 

Tony searched the files and then found something that sounded interesting. He clicked on it and saw lots of video files. 

“Well, let’s see what we have here,” he muttered to himself and started one of the videos. A camera filmed someone who was tied to one of the metal tables. It was a man and he wore only whte boxers. He couldn’t see his face because the camera only filmed his body. His arms and legs were tied to the sides of the table with white leather straps and lots and lots of needles stuck in his body. Someone switched on a machine and the prisoner convulsed on the table, tried to get off of it but the ties held him in place. He struggled and screamed and somehow he sounded familiar but Tony couldn’t put his finger on it because the screams were muffled. 

The machine stopped and a doctor came and checked the prisoner before they started it again. The doctor talked in Russian. Tony had started to learn the language some time ago but he wasn’t advanced enough to understand what he said.

They started the machine once again and the prisoner screamed and tried to get free. And then he saw it.

“Oh shit!” he blurted. 

“Tony?” Nat asked.

“It’s Clint!” he almost yelled. “The prisoner… it’s Clint. They have Clint!”

“Clint?” Steve asked. “But Sitwell told us he would lie low somewhere…” 

“Believe me! It’s Clint. I would recognize that scar beside his belly button everywhere! It’s definitely Clint!” 

“Captain America to everyone! New mission parameters! Search for Agent Barton, I repeat, search for Agent Barton! Understood?” 

“Agent Barton?” Coulson asked and sounded worried. “But he’s…” 

“Here, maybe,” Tony said. “I’ve seen him on a video.” 

He sat down again and opened the other videos as well but every single one of them seemed worse than the one before. They had experimented on Clint in the worst way possible and Tony had no idea what they even tried to find out. 

“Tony,” Sam said a few moments later. “He’s here! I have him!” 

“Where are you?” Tony asked and hurried back into his suit. 

“Basement,” Sam said and Tony flew through the narrow corridors, He almost collided with walls a few times but it was more important to get to Clint. And then he saw him. 

He was still bound to a metal table, still attached to all kinds of tubes and needles and out cold.

“Is he alive?” Tony breathed and Steve nodded. 

“We’re waiting for Bruce to remove all the stuff,” he said. Tony went out of his suit again and brushed the hair out of Clint’s face. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “We’re here, babe. We have you.” 

“It was Sitwell,” Coulson said over the comms. “He’s HYDRA, remember? It was him who told me Clint would lie low after HYDRA tried to capture him. I believed him.” 

“Oh god, it was all set up,” Steve said. “He’s… he’s faked it to capture Clint.” 

“But why?” Tony wanted to know and they both looked at each other. 

“That’s what we have to find out,” Steve said. “But for now, we should bring him home.” 

“True,” Tony nodded and caressed Clint’s arm. “Let’s bring him home.”

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [clintbartonruinedmylife on tumblr](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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